Phantom Hollow To breathe, to feel, to know I'm alive

In these moments Alara was reminded of the lifetime of differences which stood between them. She had been born Cyanean, a silver spoon at her lips from those first moments. He'd been born an ember, the faintest burning hope that the Sea-Snakes might one day reclaim what had been lost so long ago; raised a stranger among people who were not his own — yet he was a Sea-Snake. They both were.

Servitude had splintered their people, but it had not broken them. It had not erased them.

It's our blood that ties us together, Hunst, Her words were warm and her eyes affectionate even as she disagreed. Perhaps you aren't as leashed to her as I'd thought - but the Sea-Snakes of old kept no alliances, fought no wars. They traded magic to anyone who brought something of worth. This - Another gesture in Reverie's direction.

This is our own doing - or rather, our forebears'. So I'll help, Now her eyes found Hunst again. But know this: the Medeiros heir can bring nothing but ruin where she walks. Oh, I know that old cunt Atlas has been parading his granddaughter around as his heir. But River knows the truth. It's always been her.

You desire a future? A Sea-Snake future, without servitude, without living on the scraps of those who would sit above us? Then we'll see this through, and we'll go to the sea, you and I.

Alara had always had a way of wrapping challenge and promise into one. Her own gaze was stormy, but no less filled with love.

And then - well, I have no powers of prophecy yet, A thing reserved for mothers; those who created life. But Sea-Snake has never been a name forgotten.